Finding the Central Idea

These days of celebrating, out on school nights and looking forward to the family and friends coming over Saturday, have lifted my mind off dogged concern for the details of my work. Not that I am less productive, or teaching sloppily. I am not carrying it around all the time in my head.

Laughing already at the crosswalk coming from the parking garage last night, K and I attempted to cross the broad lanes of Market on the 8 second warning light. I sped forward in heels, not my usual footwear, and pitched a bit too far forward. I was falling in slow motion trying to compensate. I landed ruffled by embarrassment, but unhurt. We arrived breathless at our “club.”

At our favorite Italian place, my girlfriend and I, light weight drinkers, polished off a bottle of pinot noir with our conversation. The staff and manager came by our table and laughed with us.

Today, opening the door to one group of students, eight first graders, I entertained myself by announcing it was my birthday and asking, “So, how old do you think I am?” Several answers were, ninety-two, twenty-two and one hundred twenty. Ha ha ha ha.

This evening, when I met a friend and her 94 year old dad at a local seafood cafe we started with fresh margaritas. Mine was lime. When our plates came, I reached for a catsup bottle which gassed as I took the lid off, splatting my arm and chest with several teaspoons of gooey red tomato paste. My gal friend began diving for napkins, but I enacted a cowboy shootout dying scene. The amount of blood spatter was impressive. I mopped it off my black shirt amused.

The central idea seems obvious. I have been loving myself and others by attending to having fun, using the occasion of a very big birthday year number as an excuse.

Finding a central idea in a discovery draft can be as awakening as falling in slow motion on the street, or spattering oneself with catsup. Blogging daily is a great exercise in watching for central threads in recent experiences.

Since “real” writers compose discovery drafts and search for their themes among their words, might we do ourselves (and our students) a favor by making time to discover these central ideas?

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One thought on “Finding the Central Idea”

I love your unruffled responses to a couple of “oops” moments, and the fun you’ve been having. And I like the idea of searching for central ideas not only in our writing, but in our lives. Thanks for sharing your slice! 🙂

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Those eager beavers at Two Writing Teachers (can there really only be two? So prolific!) have put out a reflective post inviting readers to check up on the One Little Word for the year.
On Jan. 6 my rambling discovery draft included this line:

I think I need to give myself a place in the whirlwind.

So it seems I am doing so.

Distinguishing my own voice and sitting still to meditate has changed the way I look at — just about everything. Self care is eating healthy and so is exercise, yes, but self care is so much — so much more.

On Wednesday morning I got a text from Lorena. We are new to the group although we shared a summer institute with the writers. We had invited ourselves by text one afternoon last month while planning a pd.

“Oh no!” I wrote back when she said the organizer, Susan, was going to work with Chrissy at the university on their seminar. The thought of no writing group, of my first one failing, felt terrible.

The photo from my little lime journal is a goal I wrote — the first note I made — in Anne Lamott’s writing seminar last spring. Dear Anne, so funny but also absolutely truthful about the complications of drawing the Artist’s card, told us that day every thing she knows about writing.

And the first thing she said has hung out in my notebook for months undone.

Lorena, who was texting me on the day of the group meeting, offered to get together at Crema and write and talk. I was at school multitasking but jumped at the chance, thinking she meant Wednesday. That one tiny word, tomorrow, slipped past my notice.

I was so grateful she would meet that I began not to mind that the rest of the group cancelled. After school I drove over to the coffee shop, enjoying the late afternoon sun. I got an orange Italian soda, began reading a new book that arrived, and eventually noticed, no Lorena.

I was so convinced we were meeting Wednesday I didn’t look at our string of texts. Instead I sent her the photo and asked if she was okay. Ah hah, now I know why my first writing group meeting was only me.

It does say something. It’s up to me to write. And yes, I need the feedback. I need someone, some trusted readers who will explain to me how my words affect them.